If I Lay Here
by Mischa21
Summary: Kirk reflects on his relationship with Spock during a near-death experience. It all fell apart somehow, but now he wants to fix it. Hopefully he lives long enough to set things right. K/S
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek: 2009, and I'm not making any money off this. **

Jim kicked a pile of snow, shivering beneath his jacket. "It's cold here. It's better than the last place, though."

Spock lifted his tricorder. "Our previous destination was not unpleasant. In fact, I quite liked it."

Of course he did. It was a desert, whereas this place was just an ice cube. "Okay, so we'll get a few readings and then beam back up." And make a note to pack heavier jackets in the future. "Sound like a plan?"

"Affirmative."

"Great."

Spock's eyes narrowed, his tricorder falling from his grasp. "Jim." He pointed ahead.

Jim looked up. A few feet away, a figure in a puffy, black coat was hunched over the ice, unmoving. "I thought Chekov said there was no one down here."

"You are correct."

"Could he have been wrong?"

"Clearly, he was." Spock shifted closer to Jim. "A more logical question would be why."

"I don't know, but it's not moving. I'm going to check it out, you stay."

"No, Jim, we should go together," Spock insisted.

Jim wanted to argue with him, but it would take more time than it was worth. By the looks of things, whoever was out there was probably dead already. Hardly a threat. He pulled out his phaser, and carefully crossed the short distance, Spock right at his side.

The figure rose as they approached. Spock grabbed Jim, yanking him back a few steps. The ground slid beneath Jim's feet, but he grasped Spock's elbow, keeping himself vertical for the moment.

"I'm Captain James T. Kirk," he called out. "Do you need help?"

"Yes." The voice that flowed from beneath the dark hood was raspy.

"Jim, wait." Spock cautioned.

It was too late. Jim rushed forward, his feet skidding over the ice. His fingers still clutched his phaser, but his attention had fallen away from it. He reached out for the person whose back was still turned.

Warm breath collided with Jim's ear as Spock caught up, only a few inches behind him. In a flash of confusion, something hard collided with Jim's stomach, and then he was lying on the ground, gazing up at the sky.

He blinked rapidly, the scene before him snapping into focus. The figure jammed a hypospray into Spock's neck. The Vulcan fell to the ground, his eyelids fluttering shut.

"No," Jim's voice was a mere whisper. He groped around for his phaser, but it had slid away, barely out of reach.

Spock's assailant hovered over Jim, unsheathing a knife, the silver blade reflecting a beam of light straight into Jim's eyes. He reached up to block the blow. His limbs were frozen and shaky, his reflexes dampened from the shock. The blade punched into his gut, again and again and again.

His own screams were the only audible noise, apart from the rushing wind. And then they were alone.

_It wasn't supposed to end like this_, Jim mused as he lay dying. Not even thirty yet, he should have had all the time in the world. _They_ should have had all the time in the world.

Here he was, though. Bleeding to death in a silent wasteland.

He licked his lips, which tasted like he'd swallowed a mouthful of copper. Beneath him, the once white ground had turned a deep scarlet, like raspberry juice spilled over crushed ice. His gold shirt was sliced to ribbons, and he decided that if he survived this ordeal, the first thing he'd do when he got back was file an official complaint with Starfleet over the quality of their uniforms. It seemed like every week he was in need of new ones because his shirt had been ripped in some ordeal or another. It was unacceptable, to say the least.

A burst of pain brought Jim back to the present. A scream echoed through the deserted area, disconnected and seemingly unreal. He had to get them out of here. Otherwise, there was no absolutely no hope of survival. And Jim Kirk was a survivor, if nothing else.

His fingers were numb, but he managed to flip open his communicator and gather a few words. "Kirk to Enterprise. We've been injured; the situation is critical. Beam us up now."

The rushing wind drowned out most of Scotty's reply, but his voice was laced with panic.

Beside him, Spock was silent, still.

"Wake up," Jim whispered. There was no response. He threaded his fingers through Spock's. His hand was so, so cold. "Goddamn it, Spock, wake the fuck up."

Still nothing. Jim turned his head, squinting over at his companion. A few tears sprung to his eyes, either because it was cold as hell, or because the situation was just so hopeless. He would never be sure.

"In case you were wondering," he said, his throat raw, "My greatest regret is never saying I love you."

Maybe he was imagining it, but Jim could've sworn Spock's fingers twitched. And then, in a blur of colors and disjointed images, the world slid away.

* * *

Jim couldn't pin down the exact moment he fell in love with Spock, because it hadn't been a single moment. It was a thousand slight brushes of their hands; a million shared looks on the Bridge. It was dozens of attempts in which Jim swore to himself he would just go ahead and tell Spock how he felt, and one glorious second when he thought he'd finally gotten what he desired.

It was a hundred thousand moments wrapped together, and it ultimately ended in heartbreak.

But it had been good between them once, even if that hadn't lasted very long. And so Jim held onto that time, when things were bright and hopeful. When he thought Spock was his to keep.

It had started with a kiss.

Three months ago, on a night that Jim would never, ever forget. He was alone in his quarters, and Spock had come to bring him a report or some such—concerning what exactly, Jim had never found out.

He'd had a few drinks, but he wasn't drunk, per se. Tipsy, maybe. Bolder, definitely.

_Just do it_, he told himself. _Fucking do it and who gives a shit what happens. You'll never know what might've been if you don't go ahead and spit it out._

"Something on your mind?" Spock asked.

Jim opened his mouth, unable to form the words. They jumbled on his tongue and twisted together, begging to remain unsaid. Shaking off his reluctance, he stood up and crossed the room.

He couldn't let this moment slip away. He'd already wasted so much time by allowing his insecurities to rule him. It was time to take his shot, let the chips fall where they may.

"Jim." There was a hint of concern in Spock's tone, though it was slight enough to be undetectable to anyone else's ears. But Jim knew Spock better than anyone. "Would you like me to leave?"

"No," he blurted out, sheer desperation soaking the single word. "Don't go."

Spock raised an eyebrow. He remained still. "Tell me what you need."

"You." Adrenaline rushed through Jim's veins. His palms grew clammy, but he forced himself not to take it back. This was his chance. It was now or never. "I need you."

Before Spock had a chance to respond, Jim pulled him into a tight embrace. A second elapsed, their breaths crashing together, and then he brushed his lips over Spock's.

Closing his eyes, Jim waited for the inevitable. Spock would surely push him away, saying he had no idea where Jim got the idea from, but he wasn't interested. And that would be that.

Spock didn't push Jim away. Not even close.

It couldn't have been longer than a couple seconds. At the time, it seemed more like years passed between them before Spock kissed Jim back, very softly.

Jim's heart hammered in his chest, its pace so rapid it hurt. He sighed against Spock's mouth, pressed up against him. He parted his lips, deepening the kiss. Spock's arms looped around Jim's waist, and that was when Jim lost the little semblance of control he had left.

He cupped his hands around Spock's face, slammed them both against the wall. The kiss departed from careful and controlled, their passion taking over. Jim silently cheered. This was everything he wanted.

He slid his fingers into the waistband of Spock's pants. In retrospect, maybe he'd moved too fast. If he'd relaxed more, let Spock call the shots, maybe things would have gone the way he'd hoped.

His mind fuzzy, Jim stumbled back a few steps. Spock edged away from him, his arms outstretched. Oh God. Talk about a delayed reaction.

"It's late, Jim," Spock said quietly.

Jim swallowed. "Yeah."

"Good night." He left.

Jim tried to forget about it. It really was late, and Spock hadn't specifically said he didn't like the kiss, either. They could talk about it in the morning, he figured.

Except, they didn't. Oh, sure, they talked, but they didn't say anything. Instead, their conversation was strictly limited to work.

"What does it mean when you kiss somebody, and they kiss you back, but then they never mention it again?" Jim asked Bones that evening.

"He's just not that into you."

Jim's eyebrows scrunched together. "I never said it was a guy. Hell, as far as you're concerned, this is a hypothetical situation."

Bones smirked. "I have eyes, you know. We all do. I see the way you look at Spock."

At the time, Jim thought maybe Bones had it right. Until a few days later, when it became apparent that he didn't.

* * *

There were voices all around Jim. He strained his ears, listening for one in particular. Unfortunately, it was the only one he couldn't hear.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I still do not own Star Trek. **

**A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed, and added this story to their favorites and/or alerts. You rock! **

* * *

Static buzzed like a thousand bees. The memory of cold fingers and warm lips tugged at the frayed edges of Jim's mind, pulling him back to the present. His head felt like it was stuffed full of cotton, but he was conscious, and that was something. He blinked a few times, the room sliding into focus.

Beside the biobed, Bones was hunched over in a chair, his eyes rimmed with dark circles. "How you feeling?"

Jim took a deep breath. He flexed his fingers and his toes, then moved his head from side to side until the vertebrae in his neck popped. The noise ricocheted through the room in a way that made him wince. "Like I got hit by the Enterprise."

"It's better if you don't try to move too much."

"How long was I out?"

"A while. What do you remember?"

Everything in his mind was wrapped in a dark veil of vagueness. Tiny snatches of detail leapt out, none of them substantial. Jim tried to process it all, but exhaustion threatened to pull him back under. "Not much."

"You were stabbed and nearly bled to death. You had surgery, and you're gonna be fine, but—"

That was all he needed to hear. Everything came rushing back to Jim with perfect clarity. "Where's Spock? Is he okay?"

Bones sighed. "He's…"

"What?" Jim sat up as straight as he could. His abdomen was covered with bandages, no longer interested in flexing properly. "He's what, Bones?"

No. He couldn't be…no, just no. Jim's injuries had been so much worse. In what universe could it possibly be fair for him to survive and Spock to die? Any universe that would allow that was one Jim had absolutely zero interest in living in.

Bones ran a hand through his hair. "He's alive, Jim. He's been in and out of consciousness ever since you came back. His condition is deteriorating, and I'm not gonna lie to you, things aren't looking so great right now."

"What's wrong with him?"

"That's what I'm trying to figure out. Now, I need you to tell me what the hell went on down there. That planet was supposed to be uninhabited."

That was another issue Jim planned to raise with Starfleet. Every time he beamed down to an allegedly uninhabited planet, he found himself being attacked by flesh-eating amoeba, strange viruses that caused his crew to act out of character, axe murders, or just general craziness.

And now Spock was suffering for it. _No more_, he swore to himself. He was going to get Spock out of this mess, and after that, they were going to—hell, he didn't know what they were going to do. But fuck if he was going to let Spock slip away from him like this.

So he told Bones everything.

"This…person," Bones said when Jim had finished. "Were they human?"

Jim sighed. "Humanoid. I never saw his face, though. I think it was a he. Sounded like it, anyway. What do you think was in it? The hypo, I mean."

"I don't know."

"What do you mean, you don't know? You're supposed to be a doctor."

"Exactly! I'm a doctor, not a psychic. Could've been any number of things in that hypo. We'll figure it out, but it's gonna take time."

"But you can save him, right?"

Silence fell between them. The doctor's gaze slipped, no longer meeting Jim's.

"I want to see him," Jim said, grabbing Bones' wrist. If there was even a fraction of a chance that this was all the time they had left, he sure as hell wasn't going to spend it lying around.

Bones pulled the curtain back. Next to them, Spock was just as silent and motionless as he had been in the snow. "Fine, look at him all you want. But you're not getting out of bed."

"Bones, I need to touch him. I need to hold his hand." He needed proof, beyond the readings the biobed was giving, that Spock was still here with him.

"Don't try and sweet talk me. I'm not gonna let you go running around this ship like some goddamn maniac, and risk worsening your condition."

The ship. Oh, fuck. "I have to take care of the ship."

"Scotty's in command right now. I swear to you, he's doing just fine."

Bones didn't say it, but the words "without you" hung between them, silent and heavy. Fine wasn't good enough. Jim wasn't fine. He needed to take care of something, or someone. As captain, he was used to being needed, and he hated feeling so out of control, like he was being pushed away.

Bones placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Hey, try and get some rest. Things are rough right now, I know—God, I know—but I'll be back later, okay?"

"Great. I'll be here," Jim said flatly.

"I sure as hell hope so. Don't make me come sedate your ass." His eyes sparkled in a way that made Jim think he actually wouldn't mind that so much.

Jim gazed over to where Spock lay, helpless and more vulnerable than he had ever seen him before. Nurse Chapel walked over, but she wouldn't be able to watch him forever. It couldn't be more than, say, ten steps between them. Jim could make it, injuries be damned. He had to. Because, if this was all he had, if these precious moments were the only ones he had left, he had take to advantage of that. He couldn't live with himself if he didn't at least try.

He let his eyes flutter shut, newfound determination rolling through him. He had to fix it, all of it. There was simply no other option.

* * *

Nearly a week after the kiss that should have changed everything, Jim and Spock had still not discussed the subject. It was war on Jim's mind, trying to figure out what to do. He went back and forth between feeling like he should give Spock some space and time to process, and desperately wanting to know the Vulcan's true feelings on the matter, if any.

Maybe it wasn't so bad, being let down easy. Some people might have made it their mission to show Jim that he was out of line and they weren't interested. Spock wasn't like that at all. He didn't so much as give Jim a knowing glance or make a comment to the crew.

It was as though it had never happened.

And therein lie the problem. Jim couldn't stop thinking about it. Every time he so much as blinked, he found himself replaying the whole fucking thing in his mind. The softness of Spock's lips. Their bodies pressed together. Spock breaking away, far too soon. The loneliness that consumed him afterward.

It was too much to deal with. And Bones was not helpful. No, that was an understatement. Bones was colossally unhelpful. He just kept saying that Jim should give it time, or cut his losses and get the hell over it. It was no wonder his own love life was so uneventful. That man couldn't romance a tribble. Not if his advice was anything to go by, anyway.

In the end, Jim decided it wasn't worth losing his mind over. Rejection was a small price to pay, in the grand scheme of things. And it wasn't like Vulcans were super expressive, either. Someone had to take the first step…again.

So, two days later, he pulled Spock aside after they beamed down to a planet that was best described as paradise. (At least, that's what it seemed like at first. Then rocks started exploding and six of his men died. Not even the inhabited planets were all puppies and rainbows. So it goes.)

"We need to talk."

"In reference to what, Captain?" Spock asked, so casual they might as well have been discussing what they'd had for breakfast that morning.

"I think you know." Jim cleared his throat. "It's about the other night, in my quarters."

Spock's eyebrows lifted. "The incident."

"Is that what we're calling it now?" Jim shot back, sharper than he intended.

"Is there another term you would prefer I use?"

God, he couldn't just make it easy on him. It was the one thing Jim simultaneously loved and detested about his first officer. Right now he was caught somewhere between the two. "Look, Spock, I kissed you. And it was terrifying and amazing. You didn't seem to think it was so bad, either, until you pushed me away with zero explanation and then pretended like it never happened. So forgive me if I'm a little fucking confused right now."

The words turned sour on his tongue. At the same time, a thousand pounds of pressure lifted off his chest. He hadn't meant to get so worked up, but at least now it was done with, and the air could clear.

Spock's expression was unreadable. He stared at Jim dead on, in a way that might've been intimidating to anyone else. "My resistance toward the events of the other night was not personal, Jim. You were drinking, and while I have been lucky enough to avoid the unpleasant effects of alcohol, my observations have shown me it often leads to humans making decisions they soon regret. By ending things as I did, I hoped to spare you that particular experience."

That was very…touching. Hell, in Vulcan-speak, Spock might as well have declared his undying love for him.

He couldn't control the laughter that escaped him. Maybe he really was losing his mind.

"Captain?"

"I'm sorry," he gasped. "Apparently, everyone on the Enterprise has known for ages how I feel about you, but you…" He caught Spock's hand in his own. "It wasn't the alcohol talking the other night. I've wanted you for a long time now. I was just too scared to say anything until then."

"That does not seem likely," Spock said.

Jim smiled. "I know, right? It's ridiculous. In the past, if I saw something I wanted, I went for it without a second thought. I'm not sure why things are different now, except that, I guess I've never really cared this much about someone before."

Spock's hand tightened around his. "While I appreciate the sentiment, I am not convinced a relationship would be a wise endeavor."

Jim cut him off with a kiss, electrified by the intensity. A storm of emotions swarmed over him, searing his heart and his mind like a bolt of lightning. When they finally broke apart, he asked, "Did you enjoy that?"

"I did," Spock said, his tone careful.

"Then stopping would be illogical, wouldn't it?"

"Your reasoning is sound, Jim." His expression didn't change, but Jim knew he was smiling, on the inside.

"Yeah, I thought so, too."

Their lips met again, but this time, the storm settled, giving way to a sheet of calm. For a moment, Jim was certain there was no way something this perfect could ever be ruined. It couldn't not last.

* * *

Jim woke up feeling even worse than before. He was half-sitting, half-lying at Spock's side, his neck kinked from the odd position. He straightened up and rubbed his eyes and blinked at Spock, who was now awake. "Did I fall asleep?"

"Momentarily." Spock withdrew his hand from where it rested on Jim's forearm.

"Don't." He linked his fingers through Spock's. "That feels nice."

"This event does not change the terms of our relationship," Spock said in a lower tone than usual. His eyes stared straight through Jim, their gaze cool and even. "My condition is substandard, at best. As Doctor McCoy is not aware of the origin, the odds of my survival are less than 36.2 percent."

"Don't talk like that."

"I am merely being realistic. You should not feel obligated to remain here out of a sense of misplaced affection."

"Why would you even say that? I'm not… I don't feel…. Look, I want to be here. With you. No matter what."

Spock leaned back, his expression apathetic.

Jim kissed Spock's fingertips, one by one. "Hey, everything's going to be all right. You'll see. The second I get back in command, I'm going to have Sulu chart a course to New Vulcan. If Bones hasn't figured things out by then, maybe someone there will know what's going on."

"New Vulcan is not our destination. The mission—"

"I don't care. I'm going to do whatever it takes to get you better. I promise."

"Jim, my needs do not outweigh—"

"I don't want to hear any of your bullshit about the needs of the goddamn many," Jim said, squeezing Spock's hand. "You are the one for me, and your needs mean everything. Don't even try to argue."

He was sure that Spock would, in fact, respond with a statement filled with logic and reasoning, but Bones walked in before he ever got the chance.

"Damn it, Jim, I told you to stay put."

Jim fixed Bones with a glare. "Can we argue about this later? You look like you have news and I'd like to hear it."

Spock carefully slid his hand out of Jim's grasp. "Yes, Doctor. Any updates on my condition would be welcome."

"It's a virus," Bones said grimly. "The likes of which I've never seen before."

"Is it curable?" Jim didn't even recognize his own voice.

"What part of 'I've never seen it before' didn't you understand? And it's not just me, either. There's no record anywhere of anyone coming down with this particular strain."

"Prognosis?" Spock's tone was so casual; it was like he'd asked someone to pass the salt.

Bones ran his fingers through his hair. "Unless I can find a cure within the next few days, you're looking at a week at best."

"Thank you, Doctor. I'd prefer to be alone now."

"That you means you, too," Bones said to Jim.

Jim shot him a pleading glance. "Just give me a minute. After that, I swear, I'll do whatever you want."

A look that could only be described as sympathy settled over the doctor's features. "All right." He left them alone.

The silence between them was deafening. There were a million things Jim wanted to say, but words evaded him. Eventually, he settled on the ones that were the easiest. "I can fix this. You'll see. I can fix all of it." He slid closer to Spock, and cupped his hands around the Vulcan's face. Then, before he could second-guess himself, Jim lightly brushed his lips across Spock's.

This time, Spock didn't pull away.


	3. Chapter 3

Hope didn't come that night. After much poking and prodding, Spock—who still appeared to be doing quite well, given the situation—admitted to Bones that he had a severe headache and sharp pains in his abdomen. Bones said very little on the matter, and then retreated to the lab, leaving them alone.

"You are not going to argue with him?" Spock questioned, once the doctor had left.

"I could ask you the same question."

"I am not afraid of death. To fight the inevitable would be illogical."

Weariness flooded through Jim. He wanted to fight, knew he should. But lying here, with Spock's hand wrapped around his own, and having a taste of what he wanted so badly, it was…exhausting. He'd never felt so hopeless, so broken. "Yeah, it's starting to seem that way to me, too. If we can't win this thing, then I just want to make the most of the time we have left. However long that may be."

They spent the rest of the night lying there together, holding hands and kissing ever so often. They didn't speak about what had been, or what was yet to come. And, as much he was desperate to finally say the words he'd held back for far too long, Jim forced himself to stay silent. It was better this way, he convinced himself. Being together, even for a little while, was enough.

Jim started to drift off when Spock devolved into a coughing fit, his entire body wracking from the pressure. Nurse Chapel quickly strode over, gave him a sedative and something for the pain, and forced Jim back to his own bed. He started to argue, but gave up when she threatened to give him a sedative as well.

Maybe she should have given him one. The second he was out of Spock's grasp, Jim was completely wired, his mind racing. He focused all of his attention on the Vulcan, unable to focus on anything else.

"Something on your mind, Jim?" Bones asked when he came back a few hours later.

"Do you believe in soul mates, Bones?"

He snorted in response. "Sounds like a bunch of metaphysical nonsense to me."

Jim crossed his arms. "Well I do. You know how people call their significant others their better half? It's true." He glanced over at Spock. "He is better. Fuck, he is so much better. I don't understand why anyone would want to do this to him. It's not fair."

"Life isn't fair."

"Yeah, I've heard that before." He'd never truly believed it until now, though. Tragedy had struck his life before—his father's death, for one. It'd been rough, growing up without him. But since he'd never known anything different, it was hard to grasp the full impact of the event.

Now he was all too aware of it.

"I kissed him last night," Jim admitted, picking at a stray thread on his sleeve.

Bones raised an eyebrow. "How'd that go?"

"He kissed me back."

"Something about dying brings people's true feelings to the surface." He turned to leave. "Oh, and by the way, when I said you weren't cleared for command, I didn't just mean of the ship."

Jim smiled weakly at the joke; still he was unable to keep from flinching at the reminder of Spock's condition. All this time, he'd wanted Spock to at least hint that their short-lived romance hadn't been a fluke. Too bad it took a life or death situation to get what he wanted.

God, they'd wasted so much fucking time apart. It was insane, letting Spock walk away like that. He should've tried harder, argued with him more. He should've done whatever it took to keep them together.

At any rate, it would've been better than shrinking away from Spock the second things got rough, out of fear of rejection or the idea that Spock didn't care at all, when he so clearly did.

Taking a step back had seemed reasonable at the time. Jim had already pushed Spock enough to get them to the point they were at when it ended. Losing their friendship on top of everything else was too great a risk, even for him.

If only he'd known then how things would end up. All his previous fears seemed so pointless now, too late. If changing the past were an option, he'd do it in a second. Except he still wasn't sure where he went wrong, exactly.

* * *

They'd only slept together that once, but goddamn, had that one time been good. Afterward, Jim clutched the sheets around him, his toes curling involuntarily, and gazed at Spock with pure, unfiltered adoration.

"I trust you found the experience satisfactory," Spock said. It was not a question.

"Uh, no, satisfactory doesn't even begin to cover it." Jim leaned over and kissed Spock's eyelids. "You're amazing and I damn well mean that, too." He curled up beside the Vulcan, more than ready to fall asleep wrapped in his arms, wake up, and do the whole thing over again.

Spock had other plans. He extricated himself from Jim's embrace, and slipped his clothes back on.

"What're you doing?" Confusion rolled over Jim in waves as he sat up.

"I am leaving."

"Yeah, I can see that. Any reason why?" Defensiveness crept into his tone. Sure, Jim was used to running away after sex, but it'd never happened to him before. It was probably some kind of fucked up karma.

"We are finished. I see no reason to stay."

"Well, usually, when you're with someone, you don't run off like this." Dread settled over him. "Unless this didn't mean anything to you, then, yeah, I guess that changes things."

Spock raised an eyebrow. "I did inform you of my reluctance toward a more committed relationship."

The fragile hope Jim had allowed himself shattered around him. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath. This wasn't happening. "You didn't think this was anything serious." Of course he didn't. Because he'd told Jim flat out that he didn't think they should be together, officially, and Jim had shut up with more kissing. The conclusions practically drew themselves.

"Jim, how many people have you had relations with since we met?" It wasn't intended as an insult. Spock's tone was clinical, at best. This was really happening.

Jim started counting, but ran out of fingers far too soon. "I don't see how that's relevant." Okay, so he'd been with more than a few people over the past year. But this was different. This was real. Why couldn't Spock see that?

"Perhaps you're right. I'll leave."

Panic skittered up Jim's spine. He couldn't let Spock walk away like this, not without getting some answers first. "Spock, what happened with you and Uhura?"

Spock's eyebrows jumped up. "I don't see how _that's_ relevant."

"Indulge me." If he could understand what went wrong with Spock's previous relationship, maybe he could begin to wrap his mind around the situation at hand. Or maybe he was stalling. He couldn't tell anymore.

Spock clasped his hands, looked Jim straight in the eyes. "After the destruction of Vulcan, I was deeply troubled. Some might even say broken. At times I thought I always would be. It was too much for anyone to deal with, let alone share. Nyota deserved better than what I could give her, and so do you."

He left after that, and didn't return.

Over the next few days, Jim considered his options. He didn't speak to Spock unless he had to, and he sure as hell didn't initiate anything more intimate than that. Things were awkward at first, to say the least, but eventually, it all went back to how it'd been before the kiss, and Jim decided it wasn't worth screwing things up even worse.

He still hated himself for that.

* * *

In the present, Jim sat beside Spock, who was now awake. "Can I ask you something?"

Spock nodded.

"Why did you end things with us? What did I do that was so wrong? I mean, we were happy, for a minute there. And then you just…checked out."

"I believe I gave my reasons."

"Yeah, but come on, they were pretty weak, and we both know it. I can't imagine how it must've been to lose your planet, but I could've helped you."

"I did not wish to burden you."

"You just don't get it, do you?" Jim pressed his forehead against Spock's, digging his fingers into the Vulcan's shoulders. "This thing with us, it's like nothing I've ever felt before. And I'll do anything to keep it going, because—" He took a deep breath. "Because I love you. So much. I can't make it stop, and I'm not going to try anymore, even if you don't feel the same way." A strange sense of tranquility settled over him. No regrets, no matter what.

"Jim." Spock's voice was low. His fingertips pressed against the base of Jim's neck with urgency. "Your feelings are not unrequited. I care very deeply for you. It is my sincere hope that one day you can realize how much."

"I think I'm starting to."

He brushed his lips over Spock's, hesitating for a split second before deepening the kiss all at once. It was delicate rather than primal, their lips and tongues moving together in slow motion. It was like a thousand fireworks going off at once, and Jim knew that this time, the end was nowhere in sight. So long as he could fix things, that was. But the pain and the worry fell away, because he'd never had more motivation than he did right now, in this moment.

"I love you," he whispered again between kisses. "You don't even know how much."

A drop of something warm and wet tickled his cheekbone. Straightening up, he touched his eyes—they were completely dry, without even the burn of potential tears. Blinking, he realized it was because he wasn't the one crying. Two small tears shone like diamonds in the darkness of Spock's eyes.

"Hey, what's wrong?"

Spock pressed his fingertips against his eyelids, drying the tears that had escaped, and then examined them in the light, clearly fascinated by the phenomenon. "I appear to be having an emotional response to your confession."

The gears in Jim's head started spinning, ultrafast, a theory tugging at his mind. "What are the odds that Dr. McCoy will find a cure in the next three days?"

Spock blinked. "It is unlikely."

"I know that, Spock, but what's the percentage?"

There was a pause of silence, and then, "I do not know."

"Extraordinary." Jim smiled so wide, he thought his face would break. "I have to go find Bones right now." He jumped up, anticipation and excitement precluding him from staying still for a moment longer.  
"Jim." Spock reached out, locked his fingers around Jim's wrist, and pulled him back down. The force he exerted was minimal, and Jim could see, by the way his fingers strained, he'd intended to use more strength than he was able to. "Why are you leaving? You said if this scenario was unwinnable, you were prepared to do nothing except enjoy our time together."

"Yeah, I did," Jim agreed. "But you're forgetting something."

Spock raised an eyebrow.

"I don't believe in no-win scenarios."

"Indeed."

Spock's lips curved into the tiniest of smiles, a sight so welcome that Jim couldn't help himself. He crushed his lips to Spock's again, channeling the excitement that was rushing through him into the kiss. He slid his hands around the back of Spock's neck, lost himself in the moment.

"Damn it, Jim, I told you to rest. Both of you."

Jim jumped away from Spock, nearly falling on his ass in the process, his goal once again in sight. "Bones! I need to talk to you. Right now." He spun around, facing the glaring doctor. "You can yell at me later. Come on." He led Bones to the other end of the room, putting Spock out of earshot. Well, his Vulcan ears had showed no signs of disrepair, at this point, but they had the illusion of privacy, at least.

"What is it?"

"Bones, I think I know what's wrong with him."

"Practicing medicine without a license, are we?"

"Listen to me." Jim grabbed the doctor's shoulders. "If it's a virus, shouldn't one of us have gotten it by now?"

"Not all viruses are contagious. And no one else was injected." Bones narrowed his eyes. "Why?"

"I told Spock I love him, and he started crying." Jim couldn't stop the smile that spread across his face. Overall, it was a terrible situation. But he'd gotten himself out of even tighter corners before. This wasn't a no-win scenario. Not to him. "There were other things, too—questions he should've known the answers to, but didn't."

"What are you saying, Jim?"

"I think the virus is attacking his Vulcan half."

"Makes sense," Bones said. "I've been looking at his blood work, and it's not progressing at the rate I expected it to. Could be his human half is strong enough to slow it down a bit."

"Which might give us enough time to figure out a cure." Jim took a deep breath, anticipation rolling up his spine. "Bones, you have to put me back in command."

"I don't _have_ to do anything."

"Look at the bigger picture. Whoever did this to Spock might be planning to do it to other Vulcans. If there's a chance we can stop it, we have to take it. Let me beam down to New Vulcan, and warn the others. _Please_. I promise not to do anything crazy or stupid."

"You might not be able to save him, Jim." There was a sense of tenderness in the doctor's voice that didn't often appear. "The sooner you accept that, the better."

"I have to at least try." Jim ran his hands through his hair, desperation seeping through his blood. "If someone you loved was dying, wouldn't you want to do everything in your power to help them?" It was a long shot, and he knew it.

Compassion settled over the doctor's face, although slight irritation continued to flicker in his eyes. "All right, but I'm going down there with you. And if you so much as sneeze, I'm putting you right back in here. Got it?"

"Uh-huh. You're awesome." Jim grinned and ran off before Bones could change his mind, which he most likely would later on, when he'd had time to think about what had happened. It didn't matter, though. Jim had gotten what he'd needed, and he was damn well going to make the most of it.

* * *

Jim stepped onto the Bridge, for what felt like the first time in years. The crew welcomed him back with a cheer, including Scotty, who immediately rose out of the captain's chair. "She's all yours, sir. We are on course for New Vulcan, as requested."

"Thank you, Scotty." Jim patted him on the shoulder, relief coursing through him. "Sulu, prepare for warp."

"Ready for warp, sir," Sulu answered with a grin.

Jim sat down, the power of being back in his rightful place coursing through his veins, along with a certainty that, a few hours ago, he'd feared he'd never feel again. Spock had never taken the Kobayashi Maru test before, and if Jim had anything to say about it, he never would, either. So it was with complete confidence and assurance that he nodded to Sulu, and said, "Take us out of here."


End file.
